My Mid Age Crisis at 39
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|   Dec 19, 2016
My Mid Age Crisis at 39

Rather early to be starting.

But I think I have it happening. My mental menopause has shown streaks. And I am caught. Whether I am in the game, winning or losing my cool to it – is the crux of my wired mayhem.

It all started, I guess, in the sixth year of my sabbatical. Expat assignment over, younger kid in big school – happy and settled. An elite residential address, 3 maids to manage my Indian bustling household, a full-time chauffeur at my beck n call, a debit card straight to my husband’s account and time umpteen.

Perfect – isn’t it. I thought so too.

But somewhere, I was getting worked up and bored. My mind was not giving the right signals to the heart. The wiring was getting the robotic jolts of programming gone haywire. I was fumbling. My all-too-good scenario was making me crave for more.

I realized somewhere down the line, that everyone was busy. But me. Everyone had an agenda, but me. Everyone had a purpose for the day, but me. Everyone had something to look forward to, BUT ME.

The kids were molding up to independence. Routine, homework, hobby classes, after school clubs – they had a barrack of action piled up to the 9 pm bedtime. And I was an important paw in this set up. Essential for the execution; for the implementation.

My hubby was rising up the corporate ladder. Shining in his armour. His hard work, dedication and commitment brazing through like the sun’s finest rays. And I must admit, with no sense of modesty or underplay – I am and will always be a proud wife. The sense of achievement that frequents his face is the shiniest facial ever produced!

And then it was me. The Head of housekeeping in this omni-circled vicious cycle. The cycle of demand and supply. Demand for the smooth running of this layered and structured arena and a constant supply of ammunition for a break-down free, healthy, growing brood and hubby.

Again, sounds good. After all, I chose to be the housewife. I chose to leave a career, I chose to be the quintessential mother, wife, provider. Then dammit – get the wiring straight. In simple chemistry, the equation was complete. You asked for it, you got it. Now do it.

Then what went wrong. At 39 my mental statistics needed to be more robust, in control and stable.

What was possibly going astray. Was I losing it. Or Gods decided to shower menopausal up-strings a bit too early. After all, I had heard of emotional fuses, hot n cold flushes, hormonal swings and what not. Straight from my mum’s mouth. But then that was at 50. Man, I had a decade before I ought to be attaining that medal. What WAS happening.

Career wise, I had options. But something pulled me back. I tried to reason. Was it the kids, was it the comfort, or was it pure laziness?? I had no clue. I was not even motivated to figure that out.

At this stage, you’d wonder if I am mad. The congruence of my article’s heading is now making sense. What is it that I am driving at?

And this is my crossroad. An over enthusiastic woman’s lament fervor at understanding her own bearings.

Sometimes, I feel, I need attention. I got a bit left behind. Maybe, if I had been a part of the rat race, the career run – I would be experiencing the same cringe for more. But, alas, I took the backseat. And somewhere I am lagging behind. Manging my emotional restraints with the structured run of my family.

My husband is busy. Period. And I am happy for him. Well, not just happy, but freakingly happy for him. He dreamt of this. And he is achieving it, living it. It’s wonderful. And he loves me. Is crazily dedicated to the family.

Yet.

Yet, I yearn for his attention. His time, his involvement. And I hate myself for this.

I am an educated, intelligent, grounded woman from the same field. Should I not be understanding all this. Who would know it better than me. Why the hell am I grand-mothering myself to an 18th century housewife. Am I actually the housewife material then? Ughhhh!

But I am also human. A human who gets unnerved with the same routine. A human bounded for the want of an expanded time-table. A human who is wondering what her next move should be.

I need a perk. I need a strong pinch. I need an eye. An ear. Why does everyone forget that I took the decision. I had the guts. And I need a reward from time to time. A reinforcement that I was unique. That I gave it up for the family – happily. And now it’s payback time. Not as a medal. But as an emotional connect.

Make me feel important for being confused. Make me feel positive about my outbursts. Make me feel wanted even when you are stressed at work. Make me laugh even when you have had the worst nightmare. Make me feel excited even when all you need is peace, sleep and no conversation. Make me feel something!! I try hard the whole day too and I am not in your shoes – for now. Make me feel that its ok. For I am at the crossroads yet again. It will take just a second for me to say yes to the corporate offers and to dive in – arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder. But I am still making the effort to not get carried away, to stay afloat, to say NO. Because, it’s you, the kids and this arena that I created, that matters the world to me. And I do not, ever, want it to fall down after all the effort.

I am complicated. Try to understand and decipher me slowly. In the end, I am like the candle’s wax. I just melt. I am a woman after all. Not easy yet not difficult too. Just emotional. Give me a try – my way.

I am just wired differently. I am just menopaused – mentally. And it’s not simple. Just try to think like me – you may start loving me even more.

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